


Ghosts of the Past

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, HIV/AIDS Crisis, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28561722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Mycroft decides it's time to move forward, which means telling Greg about his past.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 18
Kudos: 118





	Ghosts of the Past

Mycroft sat quietly in his study, fingers trembling as he flipped through journals he hadn’t dared to open in decades. Guilt rested in the pit of his stomach, but it wasn’t as if he could change the past or bring long-silenced voices back to life. 

But maybe he could move forward. Things were much different these days, at least in some respects. Tears stung his eyes as the doorbell rang. He closed the journal and put it aside, wiping his eyes as he made his way to the door. 

“Hey Mycroft,” Greg’s smile was warm, but it slipped as he saw his face. “What’s wrong?”

Mycroft pulled him inside and closed the door. He took a breath and faced Greg. “As we’ve been getting fairly serious, I wanted to share some things with you.”

Greg leaned in and kissed him gently. “Something painful I’d wager?”

Mycroft nodded. “I’ve known I was gay since I was a teenager.” He led Greg through the house towards his study. “Which means I was in my twenties during the eighties.”

“Which means you were smack in the middle of the AIDS crisis,” finished Greg. 

“I’ve had very few relationships,” said Mycroft. “Because of my job I had to be very careful. If my predilections were known, it would have ended my career.”

“I understand,” said Greg. “I knew I liked both, but I wanted to be a cop, so I got married. And we know how that ended up.”

Mycroft squeezed his hand and guided him to sit by the fire. He took a breath and picked up the small stack of journals. “These are from that period. I’ve kept them, but I have not looked at them for a very long time.” He sat in the other chair and put them between them. “I’ve avoided most entanglements. But I want to, with you.”

Greg looked at the journals. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“They’d want me to. Harold, he told me to find someone. He was the person I was with the longest, as discreetly as we could. I thought once that we might grow old together.” Mycroft’s voice cracked and he scrubbed his face in his hands. 

Greg moved to sit next to him and put an arm around him. “I love you,” he said softly. 

“And I, you,” answered Mycroft. “Was I a coward?” He asked. 

“You survived,” said Greg, kissing his temple. “And I know you’ve put good into the world.”

Mycroft leaned against him. “You’ve shown me that I can love,” he said softly. “And I can do so openly, now.”

Greg smiled softly. “I’d shout it from the top of St. Paul’s if I could.”

Mycroft closed his eyes. “Would you hold me for a while?”

“For the rest of our lives, if you let me.”

“I want to tell you about them.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” said Greg. 

Mycroft breathed him in. “You can look at the journals, if you want,” he said quietly.

“Only if you want me to.” Greg ran fingers through his hair.

“I’ll tell you about two of them.” Mycroft sat up and picked up the first journal in the stack. He flipped through it and took out a photo. “This was Lucas. He was my first somewhat serious relationship. He got sick six months after we broke up. But he didn’t give it to me. And after that I was very careful to always use protection.”

Greg looked at the faded photo of a dark-haired young man leaning against a doorframe. “He was good looking.”

“And a talented artist. I sometimes wish I still had something of his, but his family cleaned out his apartment before anyone could get anything from it. The photo is all I have, and the memories and these words.”

Mycroft took a breath and flipped forward a few pages. “I met Harold after Lucas had died. There had been more deaths in between. I wasn’t looking for any sort of relationship, but Harold worked in the office next to mine and we met at the diner across the street. He was warm and charming and I fell for him, quite without meaning to. We had three years together and found out about his diagnosis a year and a half in.”

Putting down that journal, Mycroft picked up another one. “We didn’t know how long we’d have, so we tried to make the most of it. We were worried about moving in together, so he moved into the flat next to mine.” Mycroft smiled softly. “He used to slip into mine via the fire escape. Probably it was silly to have two flats, but we were both being mindful of our jobs.”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t feel safe enough to live together,” said Greg.

Mycroft shrugged. “We made it work. We took three weeks off that summer and went to the continent. He wanted to see everything he could while he was healthy enough to do so.” Mycroft rubbed his eyes and flipped through the pages, photos carefully glued to every one. “I took a lot of pictures, mostly of the sights, some of him. Plausible deniability.”

Greg kissed his cheek. Mycroft took a breath and continued. “When he started getting sick, he ended up moving home. His mother was a good woman, and kind. She encouraged me to visit as much as I could. After he passed, she ended up volunteering to help others who didn’t have a family to go home to. We kept in touch for a few years, but eventually lost contact.”

“I’m glad you both had that,” Greg rubbed his back.

Mycroft put the journal down again and turned to curl up in Greg’s lap. “After that there wasn’t really anyone. I didn’t dare. So many people didn’t make it. I didn’t even go to their funerals, because what if my job found out? I had a few one night stands here and there over the years, but there was no one I dared care for, until you.”

Greg kissed him tenderly. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“Thank you for being worthy of that trust.” Mycroft tucked his head against Greg’s shoulder.

“I love you. And I’m sorry you went through all that.”

“I survived, as you said. And I am choosing you.”

Greg held him gently. “What do you need right now?”

“Just hold me. And I’ll leave these out in case you want to look at them tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Greg kissed him. “I love you,” he said again.

“I love you, too. I know it’s taken a long time for me to get here, perhaps too long, but it’s time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I read [this](https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2021/jan/03/russell-t-davies-i-looked-away-for-years-finally-i-have-put-aids-at-the-centre-of-a-drama?CMP=twt_a-culture_b-gdnculture) essay from Russell T Davies yesterday, about being a young gay man in the 80s and why it's only now that he's producing a show about it, and this fic was inspired by that story.
> 
> I know that this was a real thing that happened to many young people and I've done my utmost to be respectful of those people and times.


End file.
